


Book of Kelus

by Kestrelshade



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Action/Adventure, Amnesiac Character, Background Relationships, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Earn Your Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Faendal and Kelus are two oblivious idiots in love, Fluff and Angst, Love Triangles, M/M, Main quest divergence, Mentally Ill Character, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrelshade/pseuds/Kestrelshade
Summary: Due to the loss of his father, and soon after, his memory, amnesiac Kelus Orevyn stumbles through Skyrim. When he meets Faendal, a simple archer and mill worker from Riverwood, his life is forever changed. But here there be dragons...in more ways than one.
Relationships: Faendal (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), Faendal/Camilla Valerius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Kelus (1)

**Author's Note:**

> After two years of writing this fic, I am finally ready to begin posting it. Thank you once again to Mim for beta reading it, and to the awesome people in TOOB who encouraged me to keep writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Memories are fluid; one can never cross the creek of time and have the same waters soak your feet. To recall things exactly as they happened is nigh impossible. Thoughts and feelings change. A memory is the current slipping through your fingers, already flowing downstream. 

How can one regain something so transient? I have no answers; that is why I posed the question within the pages of this book I feverishly write. My predicament required careful ponderation. 

The pale morning light filtered through the poor excuse I had for curtains, piercing my eyelids. Shielding my eyes, I groaned, but it was too late to stay in bed much longer. Half-dried sweat left my undershirt damp, my hair plastered to my face. It had been another one of those nights, plagued by restlessness, accompanied closely by fear. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, my gut twisted in faint recollection of the paralysis that struck like a blow to the head. The specter haunted my room again, and this time he wore my father’s face. 

I shuddered while stretching my arms above my head. My bones clicked and popped when I got out of bed, just like Ata’s used to do when he arose from his armchair. Frowning, I made my way over to the basin and splashed water on my face, inhaling at the chill. Grabbing a towel, I buried my face in the roughened cloth and prayed it would strip away the underlying dread. The mirror above the basin reflected the face of a Dunmer weary from a night of unrest. He looked quite tired, his permanent stubble and uncombed hair a testament to his dishevelment. Young though he was, he could easily be mistaken for one who had lived many more summers than he truly had. I felt sympathy for the poor bastard in the mirror. Most days I could barely reconcile his face as belonging to me. 

Brushing my thoughts aside, I gathered my clothing, draped over the chair designated for linens I hadn’t bothered to put away. Once dressed, I set about getting ready to head out for the day, but I couldn’t quite shake my growing discomfort from the nightmare, gnawing away at me.

Breakfast. That’s what I needed. Right.

The kitchen wasn’t much to look at, if you could even call it one. A small cooking pot dangled from the fireplace, expectantly awaiting use. Pots and pans were stacked neatly on the shelves, but admittedly didn’t get much use from me. Had my form not required sustenance, its productiveness would increase tenfold. Alas, I had to eat. I walked into the storeroom and immediately sighed.

It wasn’t well stocked; I would have to remedy that later. Merchants prepared their goods for sale before the sun rose, awaiting customers. The leftover cheese and an apple I had bought at the market the afternoon previous would have to suffice; my rumbling stomach agreed that was the best course of action. I swiped them from the shelf, tossed the apple into the air and caught it in the palm of my hand. 

I scarfed the meager meal down, although I didn’t have anywhere urgent to be. Glover insisted that I take the day off from smithing, a distraction I sorely needed right now. My inventions could potentially provide said relief from the monotony, but the next phases required parts I would have to obtain at a later date. Expeditions into the ruins could easily take days, time I didn’t have. It wasn’t like I had much space in my house to implement my plans, either. 

There was always Reev’s--Ata’s workshop, but…

My pulse quickened, nausea washing over me. The nightmare from the night previous still tinted my thoughts. “Get a grip,” I muttered to myself under my breath, even as my fingernails bit into my palms. I inhaled through my nose steadily, although it took several minutes before the unease passed. 

I couldn’t go back to the workshop. Not now. But…

Exhaling, I went into the next room, leaving the apple core on the table; I’d get back to that later. The largest room in my house was dedicated to the makeshift “workshop,” the only space where my thoughts could wander in relative comfort. Although it wasn’t Ata’s workshop, the orderliness was pleasing to the eye. I kept my blueprints tucked into a file while not in use, shelving them in alphabetical order. The newer projects stayed on the desk, but never scattered. Ata had taught me in my youth to be respectful to all forms of knowledge, especially one’s own projects. 

_ “If you don’t take your work seriously, son, why should anybody else do the same?”  _

I had taken his words to heart. While he might not find my current self up to snuff, I prayed he would be satisfied from beyond the grave (or wherever his body rested), that his son, Kelus Orevyn, had listened carefully to his teachings. A twinging ache, all too familiar these days, twisted in my chest. On my desk lay the goggles, the real reason I had entered the room. They glinted in the lamplight, polished to a delicate metallic shine, a juxtaposition to the instrument’s clunky nature. 

I received the goggles at the age of thirteen. Ata had placed them in my hands one day when I was being, admittedly, quite restless. My squirming kept him on edge as I leaned over his shoulder while he worked. Had my mother, Vyria, not intervened, he might have snapped at me in frustration. 

“Leave your father be, Kelus.” She had pulled me by the arm from Ata’s workshop into the hallway, smoothing down a cowlick from my unruly red mane. I refused to cut it, and even then it was already down to my shoulders. I shook loose from her grip, my fringe falling in my eyes. 

“Alma, he always allows me to watch him work.” My insistence made her brow quirk knowingly. 

“Reev, is that true?”

A grumble from the next room. 

“I may have said that he could watch what I was doing.” Ata adjusted the overhead magnifying glass, closely regarding his work. He didn’t look up from his desk. The invention, crafted out of Dwemer scrap metal, appeared to be just that; pieces of metal. I didn’t know what he was working on, and judging by his ruffled hair, he hadn’t a clue, either. 

“Go on, then.” Alma gave me a nudge into Ata’s workshop. “Stay out of his way, dear. Reev, I made some saltrice porridge earlier. Are you boys hungry?” 

“I am!” I chirped, climbing happily into the chair beside Ata’s desk. Alma hummed, her eyes sparkling. She left the room, leaving us to our devices. 

“Sit still.” Ata finally looked at me. Under his cool gaze, any desire to move wilted. 

“I’m sorry, Ata.” Quietly, I ducked my head. We continued in a tense silence, his sniffing and throat clearing becoming more pronounced. His jaw worked impatiently and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was part guar, champing at the bit. 

A long, whistling inhale. He rubbed his neck, sore from being hunched over the desk for presumably hours at this point. Ata arose in the morning, ate a quick meal to break his fast, and immediately retreated to his desk to work on whatever project captured his interest at the time. Whenever he got into these moods, he was practically chained to his desk; he never abandoned a project if he could help it. 

I craned my neck, peering to get a closer look at his current acquisition. “What are you working on, Ata?” 

Another, sharper sigh. Ata turned to me, giving me a strained smile. “Kelus, why don’t you go play with your friend?” Dark circles made his red eyes look hollow. Had he been sleeping? 

“But, Ata-“ He shot a scowl in my direction, and I huffed audibly. This would not be up for debate. Sighing, I stepped down from the stool. My feet thumped the wooden floor on impact. “I guess I‘ll go see what Rismer’s up to.” I trailed out of the room, slowly, in case Ata changed his mind. 

No response. I chalked it up to Ata’s extreme focus on his project at hand. Alma said to never take it personally, so I didn’t. I made it to the doorway when he spoke. 

“Wait, Kelus.”

My ears perked up. I leaned back through the doorway. “What do you need, Ata?” 

“I have something for you. Come here, son.” Obediently, I padded to his side once more. He spun in his chair to face me. “Do you really wish to help me?” I nodded, restraining myself from rocking on my feet in excitement. Ata hated fidgeting. “Close your eyes. Hold your hands out.” 

I did as he said, eyes squinched shut and hands outstretched. He placed something cool and sturdy in my palms. “May I look now, Ata?” 

“You may. Tell me what you observe.” 

Opening my eyes, I blinked down at the object in my hands. “Goggles?”

He grunted in reply. “Now, I’ve taught you to be more observant than that. Yes, they’re goggles, but what else?” 

They were old, easily mistaken for a pair of protective goggles. Ata had many of those, but these...these were special. Intricate patterns were etched into the metal. Bronze? No, not quite. Buttons lined the sides where the goggles would rest at the temples. 

“Did you make these, Ata?” 

For the first time that day, he chuckled. “I’m not that old, son. I found these in the nearby ruins. If you’d truly like to help me, then repair them.”

“The ruins you wouldn’t let me explore?” I frowned, but the goggles’ lenses glinting in the lamplight distracted me. 

“Focus, Kelus. Figure out what’s wrong with these goggles. They have a purpose, but I don’t have time to fix them.” He ruffled my hair as an afterthought. “Go, see what you can find.”

“Ata? Thank you.” I was pleased to be given a task.

“Mm. Don’t thank me just yet. Get to work. You’re free to use my tools, but don’t break them.” He returned to his work, dismissing me. 

_ I’ll make you proud.  _

Walking out of the room with my newest project, I almost bumped into Alma, carrying two bowls of hot saltrice porridge. “Oh! Sorry,” I mumbled, ducking my head.

“Be careful, dear. Are you still hungry?” She held out the bowl questioningly. Looping the goggles’ strap around my neck, I took it, balancing it in one hand. 

“Thanks, Alma.” Already worlds away, I rubbed my thumb over the goggles’ etchings. 

Alma laughed fondly. “Did your father give you those goggles?” She lifted the goggles from my chest to get a closer look. 

“Alma, don’t break them, they’re delicate.” Squirming away, I clutched them tighter. 

“Reev thinks you’re ready to help him with his inventions, but don’t tell him I said that.” She winked at me before going into Ata’s workshop to deliver his meal. Something told me that he wouldn’t eat otherwise.

Heading upstairs to my room--a loft, really--I went to my makeshift work desk. Ata wouldn’t let me utilize his workshop, but I didn’t mind; the room would be way more cramped with the both of us working in the same area. Carefully, I took the goggles off, placing them on my desk. 

Time to get to work. 

  
  


Tinkering with them proved a challenge. Ata was right; I shouldn’t have thanked him so soon. He’d made it clear that the goggles were a puzzle, not a gift. They had lenses which the operator could pop out, magnifying an object to the finest details. The lenses were tinted a dark teal, smoother than sea glass once I gently polished them with a rag. However, it wasn’t the lenses giving me all manner of trouble. The buttons were the truly frustrating part. I assumed they served a purpose at one point, but no amount of pressing and fiddling would get them to activate. I clenched my jaw, unhappy with myself for not decoding their secrets. 

Ata hadn’t initially told me about the origins of the goggles. He put me through rigorous mental paces, exercises of the mind, to keep me sharp. His training worked; he had instilled a ravenous hunger for knowledge in me, to the point where I would bury myself in a book for hours on end. 

Once I was finished with mine, he allowed me to borrow from his extensive library, as long as I promised to return the books unharmed. He often lamented that his collection had diminished since moving to Raven Rock. I had asked him about his life before Raven Rock, but he was never forthcoming with those details. Eventually, I stopped asking. 

Setting the goggles aside, I rested my head on the desk, the wood surface cool under my cheek. “What am I going to do with you?” Running my fingers over the etchings, it had occurred to me that, perhaps, just maybe, they meant something. I bolted upright from my desk. “I’ve got it!” Taking the loft’s ladder down two rungs at a time, I scrambled to the library, nearly running into Alma the second time today.

“Easy, son, slow down.” Alma grabbed my arm. “Finding anything interesting in your research?” 

Puffing my chest, I beamed at her. “I think so. Does Ata have any books about the Dwemer?” 

“That’s like asking if the kwama live underground, my little inventor.” Alma ushered me into the library. "I know where he keeps them, because I designed a system for him."

"Really? Ata never told me that!" 

"He doesn't want to admit that even he needs help occasionally." She located the rolling stepladder to reach the top shelves, where some of Ata's most prized books were stored. “Your Ata didn’t attend the College of Winterhold. I did.” 

To a sheltered lad such as myself, this was the largest collection of books gathered in one place I had ever seen. Later, I would realize that was not the case (the Arcanaeum put ours to shame), but wide-eyed and dreaming, I escaped to Ata's library as often as I could. Many afternoons were spent in the company of books, ignoring the outside world.

Alma rolled around the room, fingers skimming over the books’ spines. She moved with precision, selecting a few titles off the shelves. The ladder rolled to a halt. “This will get you started." She stepped off the ladder, handing me the armful of books she had collected.

The books stacked higher than my line of vision. I peeked around the spines. 

“Do you think they’ll help?” 

“Even if they don’t, you’ll have learned something, Kelus. No information is ever truly lost.” I wish I could say that was true. “Now, if you need me, I’ll be in the garden. I want to check on the ash yams. Come water your patch of lavender when you have the chance.” 

“Alright, Alma.” I was distracted, but I kept what she said in mind. 

“Good luck in your studies.” She brushed past me on the way to the garden. Well, garden might have been a stretch, for nothing of substance grew on Solstheim. 

Murmuring a thanks as she walked past, I placed the stack of books on a table provided for the casual reader and researcher alike. Ata spent many hours in the library; Alma would scold him for staying up late into the night because he inevitably fell asleep at the table. I’d see her going into the library later with a blanket, draping it over his shoulders. My heart twinges to think of it, even now. How I would miss those tiny displays of domesticity. 

Reading the texts Alma provided proved to be quite dry. They were intended to be interpreted by researchers, not a young Dunmer lad, even one whose reading comprehension exceeded those of his peers. My eyes glazed over while attempting to make sense of what little knowledge the Dwemer had left behind. Eventually, I gave up reading the books in their entirety, skimming for anything that might help me repair the goggles. Nothing was making any sense, and I pushed the current book away, frustrated. Standing up, I abandoned them to the desk, unable to sit still for that long. It was best to leave my research for now, but still I paced the floors of the library, thinking out loud. “What could those buttons mean?" I scrubbed my eyes wearily. 

Almost as if the gods had read my mind, I heard a familiar rapping at the door. A distraction that I would gleefully take at this point. I raced out of the library and down the hall to the front door. 

“Coming!” If I didn’t answer soon, I believed the caller would have knocked down the door. He wasn’t very patient when it came to waiting. Opening the door, I brightened. “Rismer! I haven’t seen you in about…” 

“A week? Yeah, it’s been a long one. ” Rismer scratched his leg with a bare, dusty foot. 

“Well, don’t just stand there. I have something to show you. Ata gave it to me.” I grasped his wrist, pulling the unwitting Imperial boy to my room. He scrambled up the ladder to my loft.

“Look at this!” I presented the goggles to him. 

“Work goggles? What’s so special about ‘em?” He lazily turned them around in his hands, uncomprehending. “How much are they worth?”

My mouth fell open. “They’re not for sale, Ris!” I yanked the goggles back. “If you must know, they’re Dwemeri goggles.” 

Rismer took a seat on the edge of my bed. “Yeah? That’s...cool, I guess.” His leg bounced on the floor, never stilling. “Is that all you wanted to show me?” He must have seen my ears droop. “What are you doing with them?” 

“Like I said, Ata gave them to me. He doesn’t have the time to repair them, so that’s my job.”

“Sounds pretty special. Where’d he find ‘em?” I had piqued some interest. He would regret ever showing it, for I launched into one of my infamous lectures.

“So, from what I’ve figured, the Dwemer used these goggles for many things. There’s magnifying glasses for closer examination of, I don’t know, whatever they were working on at the time.” I demonstrated, popping out the lenses. “And these buttons serve some kind of purpose, too, but that’s where I got really stuck and I’m trying to-”

“Figure that out, right?” Rismer flopped backwards on my bed, staring at the ceiling. “Kel, come outside, please. It’s so boring without you.” 

Reluctantly, I set the goggles aside. “What did you have in mind? You’re not going to steal from the merchants again, are you?”

Rismer huffed. “No, the guards are keeping an eye on me. Had some close calls this week.” He sat upright, his scruffy blond hair curtaining his face. “That’s not to say they can keep me away from the merchants’ stalls forever.” He grinned mischievously, odd eyes sparkling.

The lad with which I had engaged my sympathies had an unfortunate flaw in his character: he was a thief. Rismer didn’t look it, broad-shouldered and taller than I, almost too heavy for sneaking, but he managed. I refused to get involved with his thieving endeavors, holding firm when he insisted that I join him on a “scheme,” as he called them. 

“Ris, you’re going to get caught one day. They might even execute you if they think your crime is serious enough.” I gnawed anxiously on a fingernail. 

“Heh. I won’t get caught. The guards can’t stop me for long. I’m faster, for one. Their armor’s pretty heavy. ” Rismer stood up from the bed. “Let’s go, daylight’s a burnin’.” 

I followed him to the market, leaving the goggles behind. A project for another day.

“Race you there!” Rismer bolted out the front door, letting it slam behind him. Cringing as I followed, I hoped that Ata hadn’t been paying attention.

“Hey, you’ve got a head start!” 

He glanced over his shoulder, sticking out his tongue. “Better keep up, Kel.” 

His taunting spurred me on. Legs burning in hot pursuit, we made it to the market neck in neck. A winner was never decided. How I miss those days, getting underfoot and being downright menaces to the local merchants until they shooed us to the docks. The sailors who came in from far-off places weren’t safe, either. The entirety of Solstheim was our world to explore; we spent the summer running through the ash wastes, not a care on Nirn. 

What we had couldn’t last forever. 

Rismer. It’s been awhile since I’ve thought about him, but like a phantom, he comes creeping back into my mind. I failed him. 

  
  
  



	2. Kelus (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slowly writing this fic as I go, so why not have an update in the meantime? :3

A trip to the market couldn’t be delayed any longer, reluctant as I was to head out. The market was public, which meant  _ people _ would be there. I avoided engaging them if I could help it. Scooping up the goggles from my desk, I buckled the straps, fitting them to my head. Not too tight, but secure enough to keep them from falling off. 

After all these years, their secrets had not revealed themselves. Ata would be horrified that I wore them with my daily attire. I inherited my father’s paranoia that someone would break into our house and steal his most valuable projects. They were safest with me.

Grabbing my coin purse, I shoved it into my pocket. The trip shouldn’t take too long. Ensuring I locked the door behind me, I stepped out into the open air. Diluted sun rays peeked through the clouds. The air, hot and grimy with ash, had an underlying layer of moisture. Rain would be soon to come, if my predictions were right. My garden would thank the rains. 

I made my way to the market, a straight shot from my house on the edge of town. The heart of Raven Rock formed a circle, and merchants set out their goods along the circumference. At the center lay a covered well, running low due to lack of rain. 

Business appeared normal in Raven Rock. Glover Mallory, my employer, was hard at work, hammering out a stubborn piece of metal. His mornings were greeted by flame when he fired up the forge every day before sunrise. The corona of sweltering heat emanating from the forge blasted in my face. I couldn’t help being a little relieved to have the day off, but I still nodded in greeting to Glover. “Morning.”

He wiped a trickle of sweat from his face. “You’re up early.” Glover shaped the rapidly cooling metal to his will. He made it seem effortless; I hadn’t mastered the more advanced techniques.

I shrugged in reply, “Don’t see the point of wasting a day.” I traced patterns in the ash with my boot.  _ Did Glover want to keep chatting?  _ There were places I had to be, and I wanted to get my errands done quickly. 

“Working on an invention of yours?” The rhythmic tapping of his hammer made my ears ring. 

“Um, yeah. I’ll need some time to get the necessary parts, but it’s coming along smoothly.” I inched subtly away from the forge. 

Glover’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “It’ll come together alright, I’m sure of it. You take after your father in that respect.”

_ My father... _

A familiar chill settled in my gut. I had to get away.  _ Now _ . “Right, I, ah, suppose.“ Stammering, I gestured to the market with a tip of my chin. “I have some errands I need to run. Very important. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” My feet itched to flee.

“Hm, well, about that, Kelus,” Glover said, pointed as the sword he forged. 

My palms pricked with nervous sweat. “Yes?” I needed to leave.

“You’ve been working hard lately. We’re ahead of orders at the moment. Why don’t you take the week off? Live a little.” 

“What?” Not what I expected to hear. In the past, that tone usually didn’t bode well for me. It meant that I had made a grave error. My heart raced, even now, whenever I heard it. 

Sweat trickled down his face, but this time he didn’t bother to wipe it away. Glover waved his hammer at me. “Before I forget, go talk to Geldis. Say that I sent you, and get yourself a drink. It’s on me.” 

“Thank you, er, sir.” Geldis hadn’t even opened his doors to the public yet. I decided not to point that out to Glover. 

“Enjoy the rest of the week.” Glover gave me an amiable wink. “Get out of the house once in a while, too, ya hear?” Once he made up his mind, there would be no room for debate. Seeing my chance for an exit, I skittered to another merchant’s stall. 

Fethis Alor sleepily rubbed his eyes when I approached his stall. “The reclusive inventor pokes his head out of his den.” I snorted, not taking his jab personally.

“Heh, even I have to get out occasionally.” He grumbled. “Did you get a new shipment-”

“Eh, the books? They were supposed to be delivered later today.” Fethis scratched the stubble on his chin. He didn’t seem apologetic in the least. 

“I suppose I’ll come back later, then.” Disappointed, I made motions to leave, then halted.  _ Oh, right. Food. _ I hadn’t bought anything to stock the pantry. “While I’m here, do you still have that eidar cheese? It was rather delicious.” I wrung my hands, hoping to get this business done quickly.

“Hm, I do, actually. The rest as usual, Kelus?” I nodded. Fethis packaged the leftover cheese in a bag with my other purchases: potatoes, carrots, bread...ingredients for easy meals. I didn’t spend much time in the kitchen. I’m what many would consider a regular at The Retching Netch. 

I never thought that I would stay in one place long enough to leave a footprint, but the cliche that life has other plans rang true in this case. Fethis counted up my total, and I handed him the coin. “Check back later. I’ll keep a copy for you.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” I drifted from his stall.  _ There wasn’t really anything holding me here _ . The residents on this wretched rock barely scraped by each month. Visitors to Raven Rock often remarked on how run-down the settlement looked. I must confess that I agreed.

I didn’t belong here. Not anymore. 

Giving the other stalls a cursory glance, and politely examining the goods which I hadn’t intended to buy, I wandered back to what I called home. 

Unpacking my groceries didn’t take very long, but going out had strained my nerves. Retreating to my workroom, I caught a glimpse of my face in passing in the hallway mirror, taken aback at my exhausted appearance. With every passing day, I looked more like him. Reev Orevyn, my father. His sunken eyes stared back at me from the glass. I had inherited his sharp angles and I’d like to think his even sharper mind. Ata would likely disagree. He usually did. 

Sleep often evaded me these days. Figures of my past resurfaced, half-remembered in a nightmare, rose to the forefront of my mind. 

Suddenly feeling faint, I sat at my desk, clutching the lip of the desk. My nails dug into the wood. The horrors from the previous night flooded back, threatening to drown me.

Drowning? No. Falling. Endlessly falling, down into the unknown depths. Limbs reaching, failing to catch hold of anything solid. The darkness escaped through one’s grip like a fistful of coal black sand. I couldn’t save him. Reev was doomed the moment he ventured into the ruins, _ the damned fool. _ He hadn’t asked me to go with him.

I covered my mouth and choked back a horrified sob. White hot dread saturated the room. In the past, Alma would wait out these spells with me, soothingly stroking my sweat-drenched hair from my face. But Alma wasn’t here now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she never wished to speak to me again. 

My lungs pulled air like the Solstheim tides, clawing their way to shore. Inhale. Exhale. Time passed, and I lost count while finding some semblance of center. I’ve been spinning for quite some time, longer than I care to admit. 

Too restless to stay put any longer, I rose shakily to my feet. I nervously ran my hand through my hair. My fingers tapped the lenses of the goggles. A reassurance. Ata was still here. He hadn’t left me. 

_ Is The Retching Netch open?  _ My anxious display had drained me. While not one for drinking, it seemed like an ideal solution to calm my nerves. Sujamma reliably burned away troubling thoughts. 

The weak sunlight outside my workroom’s window indicated it was now afternoon.  _ The garden needs watering. _ However, the clouds were the color of stoneflowers in full bloom. My efforts would be in vain. A rolling storm was just what Raven Rock needed. I bit the inside of my cheek, contemplating whether going out again would be worth it. It could have been the weather, the nightmare, or a combination of the two, that had my hackles up. Deciding that a drink was the best course of action, I left the house for the second time today.

  
  


Fethis shrugged apologetically when I enquired about the book. “Been delayed. I haven’t received word.” I sighed, disappointed. 

“Sorry, Kelus. Come back tomorrow.” 

“I don’t blame you. Just keep me updated." I did not feel the need to grumble at the poor merchant. He wasn’t responsible for the delay, nor did he have control over the shipments. Any strain evident on his face washed away.

“You’ll be the first to know.” Smiling politely, I headed to The Retching Netch for a much-deserved drink.

  
  


Geldis Sadri didn’t immediately greet me when I stepped up to the counter, but that wasn’t unusual. I’ve been known to be rather light on my feet.  _ Invisible, even.  _ Sharply glancing up from the glass he polished, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Didn’t see you there, Kelus! What’ll it be for you?”

I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly. “Apologies for sneaking up on you. Um, Glover said to-”

“Put a drink on his tab? Yeah, no problem.” He stopped polishing the glass. “Sujamma, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Your strongest.” He gave me another look.

“Rough day? It’s barely noon.” 

“Ah, not sleeping like I should. Nothing more.” I deflected like a coin bouncing off the market square, my usual tactic for avoiding discussion. Geldis didn’t pry, and I was thankful for that.

“I’ve been experimenting with a new sujamma recipe.” Geldis changed the subject, to my grateful relief. “Would you like to try it?” 

I sat down at the counter. “I’m game.”  _ I hope I don’t regret this.  _ Breaking routine wasn’t like me, but I hadn’t been feeling like myself today.  _ For weeks,  _ a voice quietly reminded.  _ Years. _

Geldis poured his special blend of sujamma into a glass, sliding it across the counter. Sipping it, the alcohol blazed a trail down my throat. My eyes watered. The burn didn’t last, a surge of flame that quickly guttered out like a candle. 

I winced, and that was clearly the reaction that Geldis sought. He smiled, baring all of his teeth. “Do you like it?” 

Any Dunmer worth his saltrice openly expressed their bitter opinions, always unprompted. I found that I couldn’t keep up an air of disdain for very long. In an attempt to grumble, I wrinkled a brow. “What is this? Dwemer oil?”

Geldis cackled. “Only the finest.” 

“Good luck selling it.” I absently held my glass. Trying to think too deeply was like pulling clouds from the sky.“Hm. Do you, ah, have any more in stock? My head was stuffed with tundra cotton. This sujamma did the trick to stifle my troubles.

“Glad you asked.” Geldis eagerly slid another drink across the counter. 

I swirled the amber drink in my glass, braving the burn again. It set my insides alight. Potent, strong enough to power a Dwemer construct, I was sure of it. 

_ The ruins. _ I hadn’t planned on going back so soon after my last expedition, and yet...

A Dunmer figure settled beside me at the bar counter. “Trying to poison your paying customers, Geldis? Shame on you.” I recognized that voice…

Usually he wore a helmet, covered head to toe in chitin armor. “Oh, afternoon, Teldryn.” 

“Hey, he’s already on his second drink. It can’t be that bad.” 

Teldryn grunted, ignoring my greeting. “Show me what the fuss is all about, then.” He clinked Septims onto the counter. Geldis accepted the coin and poured the sujamma, thrusting the drink at Teldryn. 

“Here.” 

He downed the drink in one go, grimacing. 

“Like Dwemer oil?” I offered.

“Dwemer oil’s sweeter. This is terrible.” Teldryn wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve. “I’ll have another.” 

Geldis had a wicked spark in his eye. A small victory. “I have some more in the back.” He left the counter, leaving us alone.

“Getting started rather early, aren’t you?” I didn’t process his words. He tried again, bumping my shoulder. I tensed, pulling away from him.

“I could say the same for you.” Bracing myself, I drank the rest of the fiery liquid. Flames licked at the back of my throat. “Any luck with mercenary work lately?” 

Teldryn gave me a sidelong glance. “Easy there, fetcher. Just an observation." His fingertips circled the rim of his glass. “If you must know, I wouldn’t be here at the cornerclub, if it were so.” 

His honesty earned him a half-hearted chuckle. “Fair enough.” I leaned on my elbows, not trusting myself to sit upright. “It’s my day off. Week off, actually. Glover’s ahead of orders and has no need of me currently.” 

He grinned, close to a grimace. “Any plans with your free time?” 

“Mm, I had intentions of going to the ruins.” I traced the swirling patterns of the counter with my eyes. One whorl looked like a face…

Geldis returned with a bottle of his newest recipe. “Here you are.” Uncorking the bottle, he poured out another drink. Teldryn drank it easily, unbothered by the burn. He was clearly made of stronger stuff than I. A true Morrowind Dunmer, if his stories about Blacklight were to be believed. 

“Keep this on the menu.” Teldryn turned in his seat. “Get Kelus another, too. Looks like he needs it.” Did he really pick up on my misery? I didn’t protest, and accepted the free drink, mumbling my thanks.

“Now, what was that about the ruins?” His sharp eyes glittered in the low light. He humored me. Nobody listened to my ramblings about old Dwemer ruins for fun. 

“My newest project requires more scrap metal. The Dwemer cores often have valuable components, too. A lot of constructs are powered by soul gems, but eh, I don’t have a use for them. I’m not a mage.” I contemplatively sipped my sujamma, making a face at the taste. “You know, if you’re bored, feel free to come with me on an expedition.”

Teldryn laughed in my face. “I’ll go with you for 500 septims, inventor boy. Forget about it otherwise.” I shrank back, worried that I had offended him. Had my extension of companionship backfired?

“I-I didn’t mean that--”  _ That he should work for free. _

“Relax, I know what you meant,” Teldryn chuckled. “The ruins back on Vvardenfell were a sight to behold. You’d like them. Dwemer spheres taller than an Altmer, and just as snippy.”

“I would love to visit one day.” I propped my head up with a palm, unfocused and misty. “Why haven’t you gone back?” Teldryn’s expression hardened like his chitin armor.

“There’s nothing there for me anymore. Morrowind wasn’t inhabitable at the best of times. Once Red Mountain erupted, that was it for me. A sign that I needed to leave.” Teldryn stared straight ahead, no longer the joking mer from before. To my intoxicated eye, he appeared older, his assumed youth cracking away like dried clay. Given this new information, he was a fair deal older than me.  _ Or Reev. _

“I..’m sorry.” The alcohol made my speech slur and my skin entirely too warm, the familiar panic bubbling to the surface. 

_ A sign that I needed to leave. _

The thought became more tempting with every passing day. 

He furrowed a brow, staring at me oddly. “No need to apologize. That was years ago. Are you feeling alright?” 

I couldn’t answer him for a long time. “I don’t know. I...I think I need to go.” A lump lodged in my throat, hesitant, uncertain. On the verge of choking on my familiar anxiety.

“I’ll see you around?” I was unsure of the genuineness of his statement. Did he really want to see me again? 

Likely not.

  
  


I left The Retching Netch and a confused Teldryn behind, shambling homebound like a draugr the entire way. 

  



	3. Faendal (1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Faendal arrives on the scene! Thank you Paunchy for being an awesome beta :3

Skyrim. The land of snow, rock, and if you’re very lucky and unadventurous, snippy mudcrabs. Until recently, I had only the mudcrabs to worry about. 

Nothing ever happened in Riverwood. 

That was the appeal for most folks who lived in these parts. The villagers, myself included, were happy to spend their days in peace. Game ran plentiful in the surrounding forests, and the White River teemed with fish. Riverwood nestled under the wing of Bleak Falls Barrow; the ruin was a reminder that the mountain would still be standing long after we were gone. Wild creatures avoided the ruin, and I did the same. They knew to stay away. I trusted them. 

  
  


The morning mists made the mountain hard to see. Even with the eyes of a hunter, I couldn't see past The Sleeping Giant Inn from the porch of my house. Very few people were awake this early, although I’d encourage everyone to wake up before the sun at some point in their lives. The hush of the morning should be experienced. 

  
  


Today, the world was damp and humid, both underfoot and in the air. Summer came unexpectedly in a flash of heat this year. I couldn’t complain, however: it reminded me of growing up in Valenwood. My parents’ decision to move to Skyrim to live with my aunt still confuses me. Why abandon your home for a place where the cold bit into you like an ice wraith's teeth? That being said, Riverwood was agreeable enough...for a Nord village. 

Although I knew that I wouldn’t find game in the mist, I was familiar with the area around Riverwood. She had become my home, every inch of the earth my friend. The traps I had set could have caught a rabbit, if I was lucky. Slinging a quiver over my shoulder and my bow in hand, I wandered into the hills behind my house. 

  
  


The traps hadn’t caught prey this morning, to my disappointment. Supposedly, the sun had risen, shining through the mists, yet they still choked the area like overgrown weeds. I wasn’t getting any hunting done today. Gerdur needed my help at the mill soon. Hunting would have to wait. I reset my traps and headed home, waiting for the mists to clear. 

Gerdur greeted me when I arrived at the mill. “Any luck hunting today? I can hardly see past-“

“The inn? I know.” I took in the fog around us. “Not even the traps had game. Everyone’s sleeping in, apparently.”

“Well, I hope it clears up soon. We have work to do today.” Gerdur squinted at the outline of Sven’s house in the mist. “Sven’s not here yet.”

I laughed bitterly. “You won’t see him until noon, count on it. That lazy bard spent all night drinking and playing those ridiculous songs at the inn.” I had watched in the crowds as he tried to catch Camilla Valerius' attention. I couldn’t sing or play an instrument. His voice wasn’t unpleasant, and that had me worried.

Jealousy curled like woodsmoke from a fire. He wouldn’t win her affections that easily. 

“Do what you can without him. I’ll be here if you need me.” She returned to the house. Gerdur knew that by noontime, most of the work would be completed without Sven’s help. With as much as he drank last night, I’d be surprised if he even showed up. He was rarely any help. Surely Camilla would see his irresponsible side. Camilla wouldn’t fall for someone so sloppy, would she? 

“Mhm.” First order of business would be to chop wood for Alvor’s forge. He may not get many customers in these parts, but he was well known in Whiterun. Adventurers came through the village needing supplies, and the villagers proudly sent them to Alvor. Grabbing an axe, I went over to the chopping block. The logs split under my axe with some difficulty, the wood still wet this early in the morning. 

My rough work shirt clung to my back, sticky against my skin. Wiping sweat from my forehead, I chopped the rest of the logs. I stacked them into a pile to take to Alvor.

The familiar smoke curled up from the forge. Alvor had been awake for hours. “Having a good morning?” 

I sucked in my teeth. “We’ll see...or not. This fog needs to clear up soon.”

“It will. Have patience, Faendal.” Alvor poked at the fire. It wasn’t hot enough to make anything except scrap metal. 

_ Have patience.  _ I’ve heard those two words a lot. “Where should I put these?” 

Alvor leaned against the pillar near the forge, nodding to the stack of logs in my arms. “Put them over there.” He motioned to the corner near the workbench. 

Sitting them down, I stood there, empty-handed. Gerdur couldn’t get onto me for chatting--I was already ahead with my work for today. Alvor tilted his head. “Speaking of patience, how’s Camilla?” 

Had I made my affections that obvious? “She’s doing alright. Locked inside all day, watching the Trader.” I did not look Alvor in the eye, suspecting he knew something.

“Just alright? Last I checked, I saw you paying her a visit yesterday.”

“I...alright. We have become close.” Huffing, I crossed my arms. “What about it?”

“Relax, no need to get worked up.” Alvor chuckled, keeping an eye on the fire. “But don’t act surprised when Sven has something to say to you.”

“I’m aware.” I glared in the direction of his house, across from the forge. “He won’t be a problem.”

Alvor snorted, returning to work the forge. The fire was now hot enough to work with the metal. “You’ve only lived here a few years. Sven’s always been stubborn, just like his mother. He won’t give up once he’s set his sights on a pretty young thing like Camilla.” 

I flicked an ear. “I’ll change that, you’ll see.”

“I’m in your corner, whatever happens,” Alvor said. The sun peeked through the mist, which was clearing up. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to work? Wouldn’t want Gerdur to chew you out.” 

“I should. I expect to be the only one actually working at the mill today.” Glaring at Sven’s house again, I went back to work. 

  
  


My shift at the mill passed by with very little happening. It was just me, cutting lumber and stacking it repeatedly until late afternoon. Sven never showed up to work, and I was secretly happy, but if Alvor was able to figure out my feelings for Camilla, it likely wasn’t much of a secret. The mists had cleared completely as if they never appeared in the first place, and I could see the Riverwood Trader from the mill. The building called to me. I can’t say that I’ve ever felt such a pull to a store before, but there was a first time for everything.

Did I say building? No, Camilla lured me there. The mill’s work done for the day, Gerdur dismissed me after I had shut down the machinery. Still sweaty, I went home to clean up. No longer bound by work, I headed to the Riverwood Trader.

“Run me through our latest shipment again, Lucan?” Camilla sat at the dining table beside the hearth fire, too busy to notice me.

Her brother, Lucan, stood at the counter, reading off a parchment. “We’re expecting a new shipment of potions and spellbooks, but not as many as last time. If the mages complain, we’ll send them to Whiterun.” 

“Good plan. What about dry goods? Well-stocked on the usual staples?” 

“Yes. We’re ready for an army, if one ever shows up." Lucan's nose crinkled and he paused. “It’s not unlikely.” Lucan raised his head, finally noticing me. “Afternoon, Faendal. Work done for the day?” 

Camilla’s face lit up when she saw me. “Faendal! Good to see you!” 

Heat rose to my face, and I knew it wasn’t from the fire. “All done for today, yeah." I wasn't really paying Lucan any mind. If he would only go away...I wanted to spend time with Camilla alone. 

  
  


She seemed to read my mind. “Lucan, are we done? I don’t want to leave Faendal waiting.”

“You’ll leave either way, with or without my permission, so go.” Lucan kept reading over the list. “Everything seems to be in order…” Lucan spoke to himself instead of us, and we took it as a sign to leave the Trader. 

I motioned over my shoulder. “I’ve seen some slaughterfish eggs in the river.” I opened up the door, waiting for her to pass through. 

She brushed past me and I could smell her perfume. Camilla carried the scent of mountain flowers wherever she went, but she was lovelier than any flower I had ever seen in Skyrim. We left the covered porch, wandering down the dirt trail near The Sleeping Giant.

“Where are they? Show me.” Camilla, genuinely curious, followed me to the river, her mouth turned up at the corners. Her hand brushed against mine while we walked through town.

“Where is what?” I admired how her dark hair had fallen loose from her bun, hair framing her face. I bumped into her again, distracted. 

“The eggs? Or was that just an excuse to steal me away from the store?” Camilla teasingly nudged my shoulder. 

_ She knew my plans! _

“I found them over there, by the bridge.”  _ They were over there. _ We stopped at the bridge, standing at the riverbed. I squatted at the muddy shore.

“Faendal, I’ll ruin my shoes.”

“Since when does a little mud stop you from doing what you want?” 

She rolled her eyes and walked through the mud, not bothering to kick off her shoes. “This better be worth it, Faendal." She crouched beside me, waiting for me to find the eggs in the water. 

Sheltered from the rough water by a stone, the eggs were small enough to miss. “Here they are."

"I see them!" Her face lit up, and I couldn't stop staring. "We had slaughterfish back in Cyrodiil. Lucan would never let me swim in the lake." 

"Oh?" 

Putting on her most serious expression, she mimicked her brother’s deep voice. "Don't go swimming in the water, Camilla, or else the slaughterfish will eat you up, till there's nothing left but bones!" 

"That's not necessarily true,” I laughed. "Skyrim's slaughterfish might nip at your heels, but they're harmless if you stay away from the marshes."

Camilla played with the hem of her dress, stained by the mud. I expected her to be fussier about her clothing, but she had streaks of rebellion that flared up every so often. Her arguments with Lucan often ended with Camilla getting her way. I appreciated feistiness in a woman. Or maybe I just liked it when she rebelled. 

“You might like Cyrodiil. The rolling hills, her crystal blue lakes, plenty of game to hunt...” She looked at me shyly behind her dark lashes. 

I struggled to speak. This had never happened with any of the other sweethearts I had wooed in the past. What was it about her? 

“Do you miss Cyrodiil?”

It was my turn to look away, playing it off like I was taking in the scenery. The river flowed to its end, breaking into a waterfall, before continuing to Windhelm, and eventually the Sea of Ghosts. 

Children in the village were warned not to play in the area, yet the bolder ones dared the others to get as close as possible to the drop. I’ve had to rescue several children after they froze on the rocks, refusing to move. 

I should settle down, have children of my own, but I haven't found anyone I would like to marry, until…

Camilla.

“I do, very much so, but Lucan asked me to come with him to Skyrim. He’s the only family I have left. Although it may not seem like it, we’re really close.” 

“Maybe one day you’ll go back. I miss Valenwood, too.”  _ I didn’t. _

I left Valenwood with my family when I was younger, not old enough to miss it. Skyrim could be considered my homeland. 

“You do?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What was it like there?”  _ Oh no.  _

I tried to remember Valenwood, enough to paint a picture for her. All I could recall was the stickiness of sweat crawling down my shirt collar.

“Hot.” My legs cramped from crouching. I stood up, feeling dizzy as I did. Camilla rose to her feet. I offered my hand to help her up. Her palm was warm in mine. 

Camilla smiled at me. “Such a gentlemer.” She did not let go of my hand. “Now, you were saying something about Valenwood?” We went back down the path, my ears burning.

“I lived in the jungle. Lots of trees, thick underbrush…” I wrinkled my nose, making a face. “Bugs. So many bugs.” 

“There's a lot less of those in Skyrim.” Our hands swung as we walked by the mill. My skin tingled where she touched. I tried not to shiver or show that I was happy to be holding her hand.

A grin slid across my face. "That's why I like it here. Less bugs, and lovelier company," I said softly, blushing.  _ Did she notice? _

She stopped in her tracks. "Now, you're just flattering me, Faendal.” She faced me, her dark hair glowing in the sun. It had streaks of red in it, and I had never noticed…

Camilla rubbed the top of my hand with her thumb. To Oblivion with Valenwood, I knew exactly where I wanted to be right now. Her eyes flashed, catching the light. “I don’t say it if I don’t mean it.” I was lost, and I didn't care that we were still outside, where others could see us. 

“Is that so?" I was pulled in like the current drifting by us. Did she feel the same way? 

“Camilla, would you…”  _ Say something, you can do this, Faendal.  _

“Yes?” Camilla’s sweet smile did not make this easier. 

“...Like to join me for dinner tomorrow?” I fidgeted nervously, which was unlike me. 

She squinted in confusion. “At The Sleeping Giant, or?” 

  
  


“Oh, uh, at my place.” I rubbed the back of my neck. "No pressure if you don't--"

Camilla laughed lightly, interrupting. “I thought you would never ask.” 

I blinked. “You...you were waiting for me to ask?” I kicked myself internally. How long had I left her waiting?

“Of course, that’s what friends do, right? Spend time together?” 

My stomach dropped. She didn’t feel the same way. 

“Ah, yeah, I guess they do.” I scuffed my boot in the dirt, swallowing my disappointment.

“But…” Camilla’s voice grew low and husky, like the smoke of a campfire. “‘Friend’ might not be the right word here.” Her fingernail lightly traced a pattern on my hand. 

“That’s a yes, then?” I squeaked out.

“Hmm, maybe. You didn’t give me a time to come over.” She playfully winked at me. 

“6 pm?” I gave her a rough estimate; Gerdur luckily gave me the day off, so I would have time to make a wonderful meal for Camilla. 

“That sounds good to me.” Camilla still held my hand. “You can tell me more about Valenwood, too.” 

“Mm, I can, yes.” We circled around the mill, out of eyeshot from Sven’s house. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen him today. Sven's loss. She would be mine soon enough. “But I have other interesting stories to tell.”

She returned with an easy smile. “I’m sure you do, dear.” Camilla called me “dear?” I wasn’t imagining it?

“We’ll have plenty of time to tell each other stories later.” The sun was beginning to go down, and while ruffians didn’t normally come through Riverwood, Lucan didn’t like his sister staying out after dark. Lucan would have to get over himself. I had plans of stealing Camilla away. 

“I can’t wait to hear them.” We slowed under the shade of the tree where the river flowed past. We were dancing around, not wanting to let go, but the sun was dying. I was stalling. She stalled, too; we both knew why we didn't want to leave. The river burbled along, chattering to anyone who would listen.

“Let me walk you home.” Camilla shuffled, toeing the dirt with her shoe.

“Not quite yet. ” Camilla backed me into the tree, placing her hand on my chest. Her breath tickled my cheek, and I could smell her perfume. So they were mountain flowers…

I closed my eyes when she kissed me. Others might see us, but I didn’t care. Camilla was my only focus, and she wouldn’t let me forget that. She took control, nipping my lower lip, and cupped my face in her hand. Her tongue started to tease, and I chased her with a nip of my own. I could stay like this forever, with Camilla Valerius in my arms. 

I shifted underneath her, my back uncomfortable from the tree supporting my weight, but I could ignore the scratching from the rough trunk. Twisting my head, I surfaced for air. 

“Camilla, what…”

Camilla pulled away, and gave me a teasing kiss on the nose. 

“We should get back home.” Camilla took my hand and dragged me along to the Trader. Truthfully, I don’t remember what I said to her when I took her back home. All I can remember is the scent of wildflowers on a summer evening and the fading light.


End file.
